


The Closest Call

by Manderine (Manderin3)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Casphardt Week (Fire Emblem), First Kiss, Linhardt be like "bruh I care you :cryingcat:", Love Confession, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Realization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-25 22:31:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21363718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Manderin3/pseuds/Manderine
Summary: Caspar has always had the tendency to throw himself in danger's way without second thought, even when he almost doesn't make it. Linhardt, of course, for as long as they've known each other, can't help but worry.(For Casphardt Week 2019 Day 5 Prompt: "Realization")
Relationships: Caspar von Bergliez/Linhardt von Hevring
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	The Closest Call

**Author's Note:**

> I was too busy to post consistently for Casphardt Week, but I've been sitting on this fic for a bit so I figured why the hell not. There's no spoilers path-specific or otherwise, it's just them bein' sappy...

Caspar's axe rang out as it clashed against his enemy's sword. The two were locked in a frenzied struggle, both of them knowing full well that only one of them was walking away from their exchange; such was the precarious tango of war. While he knew he was at a disadvantage, Caspar kept on. If he pushed himself just a little bit further, he could win.

Their blades collided again and again, each impact knocking more strength out of each combatant, until the swordsman was the first to stagger, ever so slightly: an opening.

Yelling in exertion, Caspar swung his axe into the man's neck, cleaving down to his collarbone. Caspar huffed as he pulled his axe out, a silent relief passing through him. He hadn't realized, however, that his lunge left him open, as well, until he felt a burning, hot pain across his side.

Despite the swordsman gurgling on his own blood, he had managed to lash out his weapon in one last frantic attempt on Caspar's life. His own, however, was cut short by Caspar's work, and his body crumpled to the ground.

Caspar fell not a moment afterwards, groaning as he caved into his wound. There was too much blood gushing out of him; he needed to get up, fast. Yet when he tried to lift himself, his limbs felt as dense as stone, and he couldn’t budge an inch. His head pounded as his consciousness began to fog, nagging fear tugging at the back of his mind.

Just as he thought the swirling darkness was going to take him over, Caspar heard a voice call out his name. It was a distant yell, hoarse and strained. It wasn’t until Caspar's vision focused on the figure leaning over him that he recognized Linhardt. Caspar could see his childhood friend was out of breath and panting heavily, strands of verdant hair sticking to his face like slithering, persistent vines.

“Lin,” Caspar said as he attempted to raise himself up on his elbows.

Linhardt easily pushed Caspar back down with his palm. “Don’t move,” he replied as his eyes fell on Caspar’s gash, “just stay still. Everything’s going to be okay.” The latter part was said in a much quieter tone, as if it was a reminder for himself, only.

Linhardt pressed his trembling hands over the wound, and Caspar felt the familiar wave of white magic irradiating through him. It seemed to soothe some of the pain, but even he knew that Linhardt's spells alone couldn’t repair the injury in its entirety. Nevertheless, Caspar couldn’t help but watch Linhardt in his concentration. His face held a particularly worried expression; was the wound worse than he thought it was?

“Damn it,” Linhardt grunted, gritting his teeth, “I have to stop the bleeding.” He removed his hands, tugging at one of his outer sleeves until he ripped off a segment of fabric. He hastily tied the strip around Caspar’s waist, putting some pressure on the wound. The cloth was already soaked with blood before he had even finished tying the knot. It wouldn’t do much, but it was worth a shot. “Can you sit up?”

Caspar nodded, so Linhardt grabbed his arms and helped him up, then supporting his shoulders. Now no longer prone, Caspar looked around the battlefield, fearing they could be easily ambushed in this position. To his relief, though, he could see scattered enemies retreating and allies raising their weapons in cheers of victory.

“Linhardt… I think we won.”

The mage glanced around him with wide eyes; Caspar hadn’t realized Linhardt had isolated his entire focus on him. “Oh, thank the gods,” he said, the tenseness in his shoulders dissolving slightly, “we need to get you to the infirmary, if it still stands.”

Linhardt slowly began to stand Caspar up, but as soon as Caspar tried to plant his feet, his legs gave out from beneath him, and he stumbled onto his knees, dragging Linhardt down with him.

“Caspar!” Linhardt yelled, his face paling at the realization.

“I-I think I’m fine,” Caspar huffed. Despite his exhaustion, he was determined to keep going; he knew Linhardt wouldn’t be able to carry him back by himself. As much as he tried to fight it, though, his mind started to swim again in the familiar fogginess, and he sank into Linhardt.

The last thing Caspar remembered were Linhardt’s hands cusping either side of his face, tearful eyes staring into his as he pleaded: “Caspar, no! Please, stay with me!”

When Caspar finally came to, he was lying down on a crude bedroll, the tent he sat in leaking out a beam of sunlight directly into his eyes through the small split in its opening. He felt incredibly tired, and almost wanted to go straight back to sleep. He fought it off, though, forcing himself to bring his body back to some semblance of sensation. The first thing that became present to him was the persistent, dull ache in his side, and when he reached down to investigate, he felt his fingers graze the bandages that covered his sealed wound. He then noticed a significant weight on his chest. Worried that he had sustained another injury, he lifted his head to adjust his gaze.

Lying on top of Caspar was a sleeping Linhardt. From the way Caspar had craned his neck, he had unintentionally brought their faces incredibly close, which made Caspar blush in surprise. He studied Linhardt’s face; his usually luscious hair was unkempt, he had faint, sunken bags under his eyes, his clothes were tattered, including his ripped sleeve, and there were remnants of dried blood under his fingernails. He looked exhausted, and it made Caspar's heart pang. Had he been there the whole time Caspar was unconscious?

“Oh, good. You’re finally awake.”

Manuela’s entrance grabbed Caspar’s attention. Her voice was low enough to keep in consideration the sleeping mage, but Caspar wasn’t worried, for it is usually near impossible to wake Linhardt, anyways.

“How long has it been?” Caspar asked.

“A little under a day.” Manuela pursed her lips when Caspar gave her a startled look. “I know it seems like awhile, but you needed the rest. You were… well, to put it bluntly, in pretty bad shape. It drives me up the wall to see you kids exert yourself so…”

Caspar was about to protest, but her statement reminded him of Linhardt, and Manuela took notice of how his concerned gaze fell upon the mage. “Thank goodness that boy is getting some rest, too. He’s been attached at your hip ever since you came back.”

“... Really?”

“Believe me! Apparently, he tried to drag you all the way here by himself! Fortunately, Ferdinand found you two and was able to help. Though I could barely pry Linhardt off of you while I was trying to do your stitches,” Manuela said, groaning in annoyance, “I tried to reassure him, but he was too stubborn to leave you alone while you recovered. I’ll bet he hasn’t gotten a wink of sleep until now.”

Caspar immediately felt guilty for what he ended up putting Linhardt through; he never wanted his actions to affect him that way. Then again, why would Linhardt go to such lengths for him, even if there was nothing more he could do? Was it truly important to him that he should be there when Caspar woke up? As guilty as he felt, there was also a quiet part of Caspar that could admit he was touched.

“More importantly, though, is that you need to rest these next few days while the others finish packing up camp. I don’t want to see you up and about.” Caspar firmly nodded in response, for he could imagine the stern talking-to she’d give him if she caught him doing any heavy lifting.

Manuela flashed a hint of a grin at his obedience as she turned to leave the tent, but as she pulled back its covers, she stopped.”Once Linhardt wakes up, make sure he gets some rest, too, okay?" 

“Will do.” He certainly wouldn’t be forgetting about his friend anytime soon.

With that, the professor left, leaving Caspar and Linhardt by themselves. Caspar had a short moment of silent contemplation, but found himself all the more distracted by the mass settled on top of him. He imagined Linhardt’s position was uncomfortable, and Caspar felt the need to shift his weight to accommodate him. He attempted to scoot over, moving slowly to avoid waking him, but the jerk of the motion inevitably roused Linhardt. He began to squirm in wakefulness, his heavy eyelids slowly rising.

“Oh, Linhardt! I’m sorry--”

The rest of Caspar’s apology caught in his throat, for he saw Linhardt’s face shift from drowsy acknowledgement to concerned bewilderment. He took Caspar’s calloused hand in his own soft fingers, hugging onto his arm. “C-Caspar! You’re…”

His exclamation faded as he lowered his head onto Caspar’s chest, his forehead grazing Caspar’s sternum. He was shocked to see Linhardt in such distress, but nevertheless felt the need to comfort him. Without much thought to it, Caspar took the initiative to run his hand through Linhardt’s hair, his fingers meeting some resistance against the tangles they collided with. “It’s okay, Linhardt,” he said, trying to hide the surprise in his voice, “I’m fine now.”

Linhardt was unresponsive. He finally let out a deep sigh, as if he had been holding his breath the whole time. He lifted himself back up, and, to Caspar’s dismay, he could see that Linhardt had begun crying.

“I know, but I...” Linhardt hesitated, and the grip he held on the knight’s arm tightened. “I was so worried! If anything had happened to you, I’d never forgive myself--”

“It isn’t your fault! If anything, you helped save my life!”

“It’s just…” Linhardt pulled away slightly, lowering his head to his own chest. He was usually quite transparent with Caspar, yet he was failing to articulate his own words. Caspar knew it was serious. “I-I don’t know if I should say this,” Linhardt murmured as his eyes darted away in shame.

Caspar squeezed Linhardt’s hand, forcing his friend to resume eye contact. “Linhardt, please don’t feel the need to hide it. You can tell me anything.” He mourned for whatever pain Linhardt burdened. They had known each other for so long, and Caspar cared for him immensely. He was honored that Linhardt had stayed by his side, and he wanted to do as much as he could to return that devotion.

Linhardt must have sensed his sincerity, for his face softened, and the stiffness in his posture relaxed. There was a distinct glint in his eyes as he stared back at Caspar. They remained locked in their shared gaze for a brief moment, and Linhardt spoke once again:

“... When I saw you injured on the battlefield, it set off something within me. I had to do everything in my power to protect you. I felt like I had failed you. The idea of you dying… it terrified me.” Linhardt brought himself closer to Caspar, tenderly grazing his thumbs over Caspar’s knuckles. “I couldn’t leave you. I had to see you wake up, to know that you were going to make it. As I waited, I realized… I couldn’t imagine living without you.” Both of their faces flushed at the latter statement.

Caspar was near breathless. “Lin… what do you mean?” He began to realize what conclusion Linhardt was coming to, but Caspar was in such disbelief about it that he needed to hear him say it out loud.

Linhardt burned scarlet as he was forced to explain. “Caspar, I am in love with you! I have been for years, I’ve just been too much of a fool to realize it until now. I was too much of an idiot to realize it until I almost lost you for good, and I must confess it now, lest anything happen to you again.”

Caspar brought a hand to Linhardt’s cheek. “To us, Linhardt. Lest anything happen to us. You know how I worry for you, too.”

Linhardt froze at his touch, and Caspar could feel his heart pounding from where his chest draped over Caspar’s shoulder. “Cas, do you--”

“I’ve always loved you! I just never imagined you would return my feelings.”

Linhardt’s eyes twinkled ever brighter, and he let out a soft laugh. “Of course I would, Caspar! I…” he stopped, realizing how their faces now hovered mere inches apart. Lured in by the warm breaths that tickled each other’s cheeks, they did what felt inevitable.

Caspar generously accepted the kiss that Linhardt leaned in to grant him. Underneath the sweat and grime, Linhardt’s lips tasted of an indescribable sweetness. It reminded Caspar of the flowers he had woven into Linhardt’s hair when they were children, the old books Linhardt would pour over during late nights in the library, and the small curves in Linhardt’s handwriting that Caspar would notice as he would watch him take notes. It was all uniquely him, and it was everything that Caspar had fallen in love with.

As their lips parted, Caspar’s other hand was freed from Linhardt’s grasp and settled by his waist, pulling Linhardt in. “Stay here with me?” Caspar asked. “We both need to sleep in. Doctor’s orders,” he added with a light smile.

Linhardt chuckled contentedly as he nestled himself into Caspar’s arms. “As if I’d want otherwise.” Caspar tried to move over to give Linhardt more space on the bedroll, but Linhardt found himself perfectly comfortable with most of himself on top of Caspar.

“It’s funny,” Linhardt said, “I’ve always dreamed of this as my ideal napping scenario, lying with you like this. I can’t thank you enough, love.”

Caspar’s chest sputtered as he choked on himself. Linhardt raised his eyebrows in concern. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yeah. I’ll just have to get used to the terms of endearment, that’s all.”

Linhardt smirked. “Whatever you say… darling.”

The pair burst out with laughter, as warm and familiar as it always was, but with a note of something newly discovered within it. Their chuckles eventually dialed down into pleased hums, then shallow breaths. Despite them being on the cold ground in a meager tent after a hard battle, until that point, the two nobles had never slept more comfortably in their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed it! Special thanks to @casphardtweek on Twitter for hosting the event and coming up with some neato prompts. I'd recommend checking out their blog and the #CasphardtWeek tag!


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